


ramen night

by thunderylee



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, hipster lowercase, public bj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 02:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12333453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fuuma doesn’t like the way Kento eats his ramen—or maybe he likes it too much.





	ramen night

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

“i can’t take it anymore!” fuuma exclaims, and kento pauses mid-slurp. fuuma’s so frustrated that he’s shaking, but he keeps his voice down. they are in public, after all.

kento just blinks at him and slowly finishes sucking up the noodle. “what’s going on?” he asks carefully, like fuuma is a fuse that will explode if he doesn’t take caution, which is an accurate metaphor as far as fuuma is concerned.

“you just…” fuuma sighs, looking down at his own bowl of ramen like its the noodles’ fault. technically it is, but he’s a little too old to blame his problems on inanimate objects. “never mind. you didn’t do anything.”

“fuuma, your face is red,” kento says, leaning down to peer under the fringe of fuuma’s bangs for a better look. “did you get the spicy ramen by accident? drink some water, you’ll feel better.”

“maybe if i dump it on my head i might feel better,” fuuma mumbles, eyes widening as he realizes he said that out loud, slowly looking up to kento’s knowing eyes.

“do you have a _problem_ with the way i eat?” kento asks, lowering his voice sinfully and running his tongue over his bottom lip like it’s an innocent motion.

“you’re a bastard,” fuuma hisses, frowning when kento laughs. “this isn’t fair. i’m never eating ramen with you again.”

“relax,” kento says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he catches fuuma’s eye. “and be quiet.”

fuuma blinks and kento’s gone, but then something grabs onto his leg and he jumps nearly hard enough to upset the table. the tablecloth goes all the way to the floor, but fuuma’s head is very much above it and they are surrounded by people. if anyone saw kento go down…fuuma chokes as he realizes there are two meanings to that phrase.

strong fingers grip his thighs and pull him forward a bit, then spread them. fuuma tries to remember how to breathe as kento opens his pants and pulls out his cock, already halfway hard. it’s even worse since fuuma can’t see, only feel kento’s hot breath on his flesh, constantly surprised by the gentle touch of those fingers and a sudden press of those lips.

“fuck my life,” fuuma says under his breath, sneaking a hand under the table to find kento’s hair and at least have a general idea of where he is. there’s a sharp intake of air right next to his tip and then kento’s mouth is around him, swallowing him down and it takes all of fuuma’s power to keep from attracting attention, shoving his chopsticks into his mouth for something to bite down on.

“can i get you anything else?” the waitress asks, and fuuma can feel that bastard smiling around his cock as he looks up and gives her his best idol face.

“i’m good, thanks,” he says, but kento chooses that second to pull back and lick the slit, and fuuma barely covers his shock with a cough. he waves off the waitress’ concern and grabs for his water, and thankfully she goes away. “i am going to _kill_ you.”

kento takes that as a cue to keep going, sucking harder while his fingers gently roll fuuma’s balls and fuuma can’t stop shuddering. he feels like everyone in the shop knows what’s going on, unable to do anything but twist the fuck out of kento’s hair as he gets close.

“kento,” he whispers, so quietly that he can barely even hear himself, but he knows that kento hears him by the way he moves even faster. “i’m gonna—”

fuuma’s last flash of coherency is spent pulling kento’s head back, because it’s way too far down and kento will choke if he comes like this, but he apparently uses too much force and he lets go against nothing, eyes popping open in paranoia.

every nerve in his body tingles, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. the tables around him are still talking, paying him no mind, and kento’s gently putting him back into his pants and fastening them. but where did—

“pass me some napkins,” kento’s soft voice sounds up from between his legs. “if you got it in my hair, i’ll kill you.”

fuuma gasps as he realizes what happened, and he can’t stop himself from lifting the cloth a little to see the finished piece. the sight of kento’s face seems to turn him on all over again, a streak of come across one cheek while his tongue is lapping up the drops around his lips.

“you deserved that,” fuuma hisses as he shoves down the napkins and pushes away the rest of his bowl. there’s no way he’ll be able to eat ramen again without thinking about _that_.


End file.
